A Grieving Promise
by punkballet
Summary: Following mostly the book. How Legolas copes with Gandalf's fall. Please R&R.


_Disclaimer: Although some of the dialogue and scene descriptions find their origins in the Lord of the Rings novels or films, I solemnly swear that I own neither Lord of the Rings nor any of the characters, ideas, or concepts provided within. This is purely for my entertainment. And hopefully, your own._

_The following generally follows the novel's account, not the film._

**A Grieving Promise**

After so long in the cold and unforgiving dark of Moria, the light of the sun seemed harsh, even to the eyes of the Elf. Indeed, he did not stop running until he reached the edge of the jagged cliff. He gazed into the scenery before him, a haze of confusion and bewilderment clouding his vision. It could not be.... Surely, it cannot be.... No, it could not—cannot be.... And yet, even as Legolas begged the glaring indifference of the sun, he knew it to be true. One of his greatest fears had been realized, and it could not have happened at so miserable a time.

Mithrandir had fallen.

Literally. The moment the Balrog wrapped its fiery whip around the wizard, Mithrandir had slipped so far into the dark abyss, that his escape through any miracle, would have become impossible. He stopped only for his final parting words...and he was gone.

He heard Aragorn calling the company together, and Legolas turned. As he did, he felt a sharp apin in his side. He ignored it, and instead helped the hobbits and Gimli to their feet.

"Give them a moment's peace!" he heard Boromir cry. Legolas was, for once, in agreement with the Man from Gondor. But he knew Aragorn was right; they must keep going, else they would all be cut down by the ruthless Orcs. Once the Company were all standing, they set off again. They travelled swiftly, not resting until it was deep into day. Frodo and Sam had begun to lag behind, and only then at Legolas' insistence did they halt.

"Frodo and Sam are injured, they can go no further this day," Legolas said quietly to Aragorn, feeling the stab of pain in his own side as clean as a razor's edge. Aragorn turned and seeing the hobbit's plight, nodded and rushed towards them, calling Boromir.

"I am sorry, Frodo!" Aragorn cried. "So much had happened today and we have such need of haste, that I have forgotten that you were hurt, and Sam too. You should have spoken. We have done nothing to ease you, as we ought, though all the Orcs of Moria were after us. Come now! A little further on there is a place where we can rest for a little. There I will do what I can for you. Come, Boromir! We will carry them."

After nearly another hour of endless running, they at last met up with the Celebrant, its rushing waters carrying with them, it seemed to Legolas, the wail of grief that he felt himself. While Aragorn tended the hobbits, Legolas continued to walk, nearing the banks of the river and leaving the encampment. In truth, despite the gnawing pain he felt in his side, he could have continued on as he felt no weariness. He looked southward, to the fair boughs of Lothlòrien. He knew they were to make for there. Amidst those eaves, perhaps he would find solace.

He turned his gaze to the East. There lay Mirkwood, as the Men called it. His own home. In sadness he observed the darkness and shadow that, even from this distance, seemed to filter through its borders. One day, the darkness would lift, Mithrandir had said.

Mithrandir. Alas for his fate! And alas that such was the state of the Fellowship. Legolas stared into the river, feeling in his heart the wailing and mournful song that the river played. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, chest heaving, and he fought to control his pain. The Company needed him still. He inhaled slowly, and the rhythm of his breathing slowed. At length he turned away, and tread quietly back to the encampment.

There, Sam and Frodo had been tended, and indeed they looked well. Aragorn was kneeling with his back to Legolas, speaking with Gimli. Legolas turned and saw Merry and Pippin, whose faces, once so young and free from care, burdened with their sorrow. Legolas sat down with them. Pippin looked up at him, but could not speak.

"What shall we do now?" Merry wondered aloud. "Gandalf was our guide. How do we continue without him?"

"Aragorn is a fine leader, and he knew Gandalf's mind. He will not lead us astray," Legolas replied gently.

"What will that matter now? Hope is lost," Merry observed dismally.

"Nay! Hope is not lost while we cherish it in our hearts," Legolas rebuked softly, wishing he could believe his own words. "As long as Gandalf and his wisdom stay in us, he will always be among us."

The Company set off again. At length they arrived in Lothlòrien. Although it was night, Legolas could see the fairness, the soft grey of the boles, the soft rustling of leaves like a soothing song to his mind.

" Lothlòrien!" said Legolas softly. "Lothlòrien! We have come to the eaves of the Golden Wood. Alas that it is winter."

The Company followed him into the forest. The golden leaves, even in the twilight, emitted a soft radiance. Legolas felt, for the first time, his heart lift gently. Even in the gloom of the night, the forest of Lòrien was a beautiful sight.

"Lothlòrien!" Aragorn murmured. "Glad am I to hear again the wind in the trees! We are still little more than five leagues from the Gates, but we can go no further. Here let us hope that the virtue of the Elves will keep up tonight from the peril that comes behind."

"If Elves indeed still dwell here in the darkening world," Gimli replied darkly.

"It is long since any of my own folk journeyed hither back to the land whence we wandered in ages ago," said Legolas. "The Elves here now dwell deep within its borders."

The Company followed Legolas into the forest, even Boromir, who hesitated at first. With Aragorn's urging, he too entered, muttering under his breath. Legolas led them slightly past the borders, and made to climb one of the trees. As he swung up, a voice commanded, "Daro!"

Legolas let go in surprise, yet he recognized the voice. It was Haldir, whom Legolas had met many years before in Imladris. The Company would be safe tonight, he was sure.

O0O0O0O0O0

"_You summoned me, Gandalf?" Aragorn said from the doorway. It was the eve of their departure, and it was late._

_Gandalf looked up from his pipe. "Yes," he said thoughtfully, "I did. Let us walk."_

_He stood and the two walked silently on the balcony of Lord Elrond's home._

"_What do you think of Legolas?" Gandalf asked at last. Aragorn looked at the Wizard, baffled by the question._

"_He is loyal, true, steadfast in brotherly love, strong of will..." Aragorn's voice faded. "I am not sure I understand you, my friend."_

_Gandalf looked at Aragorn intently. "It is the last of what you said that concerns me," he said, almost with sorrow, Aragorn thought._

"_You think he strength of will shall falter?" Aragorn asked, still not comprehending._

" _Nay; I think rather the opposite. I believe his strength in that regard will be used to overcompensate for a perceived weakness in another part," Gandalf said seriously. "There will come a time on this Quest where there shall be much grieving. It is here that Legolas will need your help. His strength and his grief will be at odds."_

"_And I will be there to fight alongside him," Aragorn affirmed. Gandalf smiled, but Aragorn still sensed the sorrow lurking beneath its surface._

O0O0O0O0O0

It had been many days that the Company had been in the forest of Lòrien. Aragorn could see that it had done the Hobbits much good to be among the virtues of the Elves. There was a light again in their eyes that had not been seen since their stay in Rivendell. Gimli too seemed well. Boromir still remained as leery as ever, even as he spoke with Gimli. Aragorn could still find no sight of Legolas, whom he had in fact seen very little of since Aragorn bandaged the wound on Legolas' side. It had, thankfully, not been deep, but the flesh surrounding it still bore the signs of the poison of the Orcs' arrow-tips. The Elves were a strong race however, and for once Legolas had almost been truthful in his insistence that his would was but a small and insignificant one.

Aragorn remembered the voice of Galadriel in his mind. _You know Gandalf's charge_, she said. _He will need your brother-love ere you pass from under the Golden Wood._

Aragorn stood. He smiled at the Hobbits and left the clearing. He had not gone far when he spotted Legolas. His back was to Aragorn, and as Aragorn drew closer, he could hear the soft murmuring of a traditional Elvish lament for the dead. He paused, feeling almost ashamed to have crept into so intimate a moment. As the lament ended, Aragorn drew closer and stood next to Legolas. The Elf remained silent, neither acknowledging nor rebuking Aragorn's presence.

"Legolas," Aragorn said softly. "I know you were close to Gandalf. You have borne the loss harder than most."

"No worse than the others, save Boromir perhaps," Legolas replied, but Aragorn felt his friend stiffen.

"That may or may not be," Aragorn countered, "yet you are the only one who has not accepted your grief."

"It does no good to grieve, it cannot bring the dead to the living, save in memories to painful to visit and destined only to fade," Legolas answered.

"That is not so, mellon-nîn. If one does not grieve, one cannot relive the memories without pain," Aragorn said. He took a gentler tone. "Come mellon-nîn. We have all suffered this loss in our own ways, but it does not mean we must suffer alone."

Legolas drew a shaky breath, and Aragorn put his arm around the Elf and held him as one would hold a brother. "I made a promise, Legolas," Aragorn said. "You do not suffer alone."


End file.
